Because there is not much else to do while behind the wheel, I like to think of myself as a law-abiding pillar of my community as I drive to work at a safe 10-15 miles over the posted speed limit.

After all, I don’t break any laws, except for going over the speed limit along with everybody else. But hey nobody cares unless you get caught going 145 mph texting naked in a school zone.

Besides, all us law abiding pillars of the community speed. We do it because we want too. We choose what laws we obey, and don’t obey, and what ones we think others should obey.

It’s what makes us law-abiding Americans who build walls to keep illegal people from being out there speeding with us.

And, admittedly, I do occasionally probably dump something I shouldn’t into the recycling wheelie bin thing, like peanut butter jars with peanut butter still in them, but I’m trying to reform.

I certainly don’t act like a certain neighbor who is built (as I have written before) like a rather pugnacious middle linebacker with a pixie cut.

In previous years, she was frequently apt to uncork Luke Bryan music and start hollering out obscure, R-rated cornhole strategies at 3 a.m., waking up my wife.

Once, she invited over a whole caravan of people who looked like redneck bigfoots.

For all I know, they were a lost tribe of yetis from somewhere in the backwoods of west Effingham County.

At any rate, all 200 of them erected tents in her back yard and began to fry squirrels and throw beer cans in a pile, and start fires with kerosene, all to the accompaniment of country rap music, which I detest.

It was a weekend in which most of my good places to hide from my wife were taken by squirrels, running from the squirrel dumpling pots just down the road.

But, to my neighbor’s credit, apart from her occasional and alarming penchant of suddenly wandering around outside in striped LulaRoe leggings picking up pinecones, she has calmed down of late. This was perhaps due at least part to the cold weather, and now that it’s warming up I have no doubt she’ll be back outside like a groundhog looking for her shadow. That woman is a harbinger of spring in my neck of the woods if ever there was one.

That’s why I bring her up now. As I got ready for bed at 9:30 p.m. (my usual sedate law-abiding hour) the other night, my wife said she heard something out back.

It turned out to be someone in that particular woman’s backyard, driving something with headlights around in circles, over and over again.

The result was just loud enough to make us think we heard someone driving through our HVAC system and hollering "Wheeee!"

I once, years ago, offered to go try and talk to the woman, but my wife, perhaps fearful for my safety, told me not to mess with her.

On this night, the woman (or someone in her yard) eventually gave up going in circles, shutting down around midnight.

I do not know what will happen this weekend, but I am hopeful whatever goes down my neighbor does not bring home a trampoline and start bouncing around on it in LulaRoes.

If that happens, I’m building a wall of my own.

Thanks for reading and have a great weekend. And please say a prayer for B.J. Clark and his wife, Marsha, who is one of the team moms for the Pembroke Mafia Football League.

She’s recently been fighting hospitals and had a surgery this week, and hopefully is now on the road to a full recovery so they can go to Georgia Southern football games and she can keep B.J. and their son Mike on the straight and narrow.